


Nothing is gonna take you from my side

by sassy_dae



Category: NCT (Band)
Genre: Angst, Canon Temporary Character Death, Canon-Typical Violence, Established Relationship, M/M, Soulmates, The Old Guard AU, exploring ideas of immortality and death
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-01
Updated: 2020-10-01
Packaged: 2021-03-07 23:02:03
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,876
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26755501
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sassy_dae/pseuds/sassy_dae
Summary: They may be a band of immortal warriors that have traveled the world for centuries, but they aren't invincible.  Their immortality is only fornow.  And that is something Haechan is just realizing after 250 years.  All it took was Taeil taking a few extra minutes to revive for Haechan to have the devastating realization that one day Taeil may never wake up again.
Relationships: Lee Donghyuck | Haechan/Moon Taeil
Comments: 14
Kudos: 60





	Nothing is gonna take you from my side

They came to New York for a ‘family vacation’—take the last month of the year off to celebrate Christmas and the upcoming New Year before jumping into whatever big mission they decide to pursue. It's the first time they celebrate Christmas in almost 50 years, and Haechan has a long list of plans. Go shopping for presents with Johnny, Jaehyun, and Yuta; ice skate at Rockefeller Center with Mark and Jungwoo; buy Christmas ornaments with Doyoung; stroll through Central Park with Taeil after a matinee showing of the _Phantom of the Opera._ They are supposed to eat good food, sing carols, and overall _relax._ So why _,_ Haechan wonders with a mixture of frustration and blood churning adrenaline,are he and Taeil running down a hallway after an errant terrorist-kidnapper in an abandoned building? Not that Haechan minds a bit of action, but why can’t they ever have a _quiet_ holiday?

Taeil rushes past him, throwing two daggers at the terrorist and hitting him square on each shoulder blade. _Perfect aim as usual_ , Haechan thinks adoringly of his companion. He remembers learning quite quickly just how deadly the adorable cuddly Taeil could be when given a set of throwing stars or daggers. Taeil is not violent by nature, but when forced into a corner he will do more damage alone than an entire SWAT team. But then again, Taeil has lived long enough to have learned and forgotten more ways to fight than armies will ever learn. 

When the terrorist stumbles forward, flailing a gun around erratically, Taeil jumps in Haechan’s path deflecting all but a few bullets with his tiger hook swords. The few that do make it past hit Taeil in the chest, puncturing his lungs and heart (Taeil _always_ does that, much to Haechan’s chagrin—takes extra blows as if Haechan himself isn’t also immortal. “I just want to protect you,” Taeil shrugs off Haechan’s complaints). As Haechan catches him, Taeil gives him a cheeky, albeit bloody smile before collapsing lifeless in Haechan’s arms. Haechan sighs defeatedly as he gently places Taeil on the floor, making sure he’s safely out of harms way.

As Haechan takes a bullet in the shoulder, he grits his teeth groaning in pain. _How do they always get themselves in these situations?_ Haechan laments. But it’s a rhetorical question; he knows _exactly_ how they got here. It’s always the same—Taeil expresses concern (in this case, kidnapped school children), and Doyoung takes it upon himself to plan out a mission even without Taeil explicitly telling him to do so. Even if Taeil isn’t their leader, he is still the oldest and his words carry weight. And Doyoung never denies his eldest friend anything (let alone the potential of saving innocent kids from terrorist-kidnappers so close to the holidays).

“It is a simple, straight forward mission,” Doyoung had promised. “Half a dozen terrorists, locked in a two story building with fifty hostages, thirty of which are first-grade aged children—they do not have the resources to maintain their plan for much longer.” 

“Should be like shooting fish in a barrel," Johnny had added confidently. “We’ll be in-and-out before dinner time.” And it would have been that easy if the intel had been correct. Johnny had sniped all the accounted-for terrorists with relative ease as the others ensured all the hostages, the children especially, made it out of the building safely (one particularly adorable boy had hugged Taeil and told him he liked him, melting Haechan’s heart). But someone in the police department didn’t know how to count, and had miscalculated the number of hostiles. So now Haechan finds himself drawing his long, double-edged sword and giving chase to one unaccounted for terrorist. _What a bunch of bullshit_ , Haechan thinks as he narrowly misses another shot. _He’ll make sure to scold Doyoung for his shitty intel later_. 

Haechan moves quickly to disarm the terrorist with a swing of his sword, the injuries from Taeil’s daggers significantly hindering the kidnapper’s movements. With an upward slash he sends the gun flying. Using the momentum of the swing, Haechan spins around and skewers the man with his sword, pressing deep into this abdomen with unrestrained anger. “You shot my love, Moon Taeil. _You shouldn’t have done that,”_ he growls through his teeth as he twists his sword and pulls it out with well practiced flare. Even if they are immortal, Haechan still hates seeing Taeil get hurt (Haechan concedes he understands why Taeil always takes bullets for him, though it won’t stop him from grumbling about it). Haechan lets the body fall to the ground, only realizing too late that the terrorist had a hidden gun. Using his last bit of strength, the terrorist shoots Haechan point blank in the face—having what he assumes is the last laugh. _That was fucking rude,_ Haechan thinks right before pain and darkness take over as he falls dead on the ground.

The room stands quiet, the echoes of Yuta and Jaehyun dealing with their own stray terrorist streaming in through the narrow walls. “ _Is everyone alright? Did you apprehend the hostiles?_ ” Doyoung’s voice rings in their earpieces, but he is met with silence.

A few seconds later, with a large intake of air and a strangled cough, Haechan opens his eyes as he slowly rolls over and groans. _Just because we keep living doesn’t mean we stop hurting_ , Taeil had once told him, and Haechan really feels those words are true in this day and age. Haechan remembers the good ol’ days of swords, daggers, and arrows. When you got stabbed or slashed, your body just sutured itself up—good as new! But with guns there are bullets, and bullets embed themselves. So as Haechan’s body heals, it can’t just simply close up organs and skin, or un-fracture bones. It needs to extract the bullets first, and reversing a bullet’s path _hurts like a bitch._ Perhaps it’s this unnecessary suffering that turns Haechan off from using guns unless he has to. Haechan may love movies, cars, the internet, video games, and cell phones, but firearms are not one of humankind’s greatest achievements. 

“ _Hello? Is anyone there?_ ” Doyoung inquires again, his concern growing with each second of silence.

“ _We’re good, just ran into a little trouble_ ,” Jaehyun responds over the static. 

“Sorry, didn’t hear you since Taeil and I were taking a quick nap. But we’re awake now,” Haechan replies, stretching his neck. “God I hate guns _,”_ Haechan says spitting up a bullet, the horrible taste of gunpowder penetrating his senses. Simply _barbaric_ ; give him a good muay thai sparring match any day _._ Haechan brings his hands to his face and hair, his fingers sticky with his own blood. _Ugh, and he had just gotten his hair done too._ “Hey Doyoung, did you bring wet wipes with you?” he says into his earpiece.

“ _Is it wise to be concerned with such trivialities at this moment?”_ Doyoung sighs exasperated. “ _But yes, there are some in the vehicle. Speaking of which, you should all begin your exit. SWAT has just been dispatched and should be arriving any second,”_ Doyoung warns them with his usual tone of cautiousness, the static from his police radio echoing in the background.

Haechan gets to his feet and starts cleaning up his mess, wanting to leave as little evidence of their involvement as possible (though he knows he can’t do much about their blood; thank God for Johnny’s connections in the CIA). He sighs, wiping his sword clean and sheathing it. He bends down to pull out Taeil’s daggers from the now disemboweled terrorist. Taeil never misses his target, always accurate and precise. Haechan smirks to himself, _Is it weird that it kind of turns him on?_

“ _SWAT has arrived and are beginning to make their entry. You need to withdraw now,_” Doyoung says into Haechan’s earpiece, his voice now on the edge of panic. _Always the worry-wart_ , Haechan tsks. 

“ _Yuta, Jaehyun, and I are en route,_ ” Johnny responds, breathing heavily as he runs through the building. “ _Taeil and Haechan, we’ll pick you up on our way out.”_

“We’ll be waiting,” Haechan confirms in a sing-song voice, before turning his attention to Taeil, who has been unusually quiet. “Boss, it’s time to get going,” he yells, but when Taeil doesn’t respond Haechan turns sharply towards him. Only then does he notice that Taeil hasn’t moved from where Haechan had placed him minutes before. “Boss?” Haechan calls out again, but Taeil continues to lie on the ground motionless. The hair on the back of Haechan’s neck stands at attention as he quickly makes his way over, all senses in overdrive. It’s been a few minutes since he went down, Taeil should have returned by now. “Taeil, stop playing around,” Haechan says with an uncertain laugh, falling to his knees. With shaky hands, Haechan places his fingers gently on Taeil’s blood soaked chest, noticing that Taeil’s wounds haven’t healed in the slightest. “Taeil, come on. Wake up.”

But Taeil’s eyes stare up at the ceiling unseeing, jaw slack from the smile he had given Haechan earlier. Even his skin has started to pale slightly. Haechan’s heart seems to stop in his chest, panic setting in. _Why isn’t Taeil waking up?_ Haechan can’t seem to breath, his eyes quivering as he just sits there waiting for Taeil to revive. _Get up, get up, get up_ he chants in his head, hoping Taeil can hear him. As the seconds tick by and Taeil shows no signs of waking, Haechan inhales sharply and holds his breath. With trembling fingers he brings Taeil’s hand to his lips, staining his skin with a mixture of both his and Taeil's blood. Eyes closed tightly, Haechan prays for the first time in centuries, mouth moving against Taeil’s soft skin. He begs and bargains with whichever higher power bestowed on him his immortality to _please,_ give Taeil back to him _._

Haechan mutters desperately to himself for what feels like hours, though mere seconds pass before Taeil’s pupils dilate and the holes in his chest begin to heal, bullets slowly oozing out. Taeil groans in pain, coughing as air fills his lungs anew. He shifts his head, seeking out Haechan. He always looks for Haechan first, wanting to make sure he’s ok. And usually Haechan greets him with a welcoming smile, but this time Haechan frowns deeply, his eyes glassy with an unreadable emotion.

“Unhappy to see me?” Taeil teases as he sits up slowly, clearing his throat as if he’s gone days without speaking.

“What took you so long?” Haechan questions accusingly.

“Sorry, I’m quite old and not as quick as I used to be,” Taeil jokes, as he looks down at himself. He pokes a finger through a particularly large hole, pouting slightly. “I knew I shouldn’t have worn this sweater, I just bought it. Too bad, I really liked it.”

Haechan suddenly kisses Taeil desperately on the lips, nuzzling their noses together as he exhales shakily. Taeil pulls back surprised—not unhappy to be kissed, but finding it strange for Haechan to be overly sentimental while on a mission. “Haechan-ie? You ok?” Before Haechan gets a chance to reply, Jaehyun and Yuta rush into the room. They help them up as Johnny leads the way out of the building, making sure to evade the hoards of law enforcement that have suddenly decided to show up ( _after we’ve done their job for them_ , Johnny can’t help but laugh). As Doyoung drives them away from the scene (at a reasonable, unsuspecting speed, thank you very much), Haechan and Taeil sit in the back of the van huddled together. Taeil takes a wet wipe and begins to clean the blood from Haechan’s face and hair as he always does after a mission. Taeil is gentle, making sure Haechan shines as brightly as he did before, erasing all signs of violence until only his glowing skin and a map of birthmarks remain. And Haechan usually relishes their little ritual, basking in Taeil’s attention. But something about this particular moment feels rife with tension. So when Taeil gives him a boyish smile, Haechan releases a breath he didn’t even know he was holding. 

* * *

Haechan combs through his and Taeil’s suitcase, pouting as he flicks his dripping hair out of his eyes as he searches for a shirt to wear. His tattered, bloody clothes sit in a garbage bag in the corner of the room, waiting to be joined by Taeil’s own ruined garments before sending it off to be incinerated. He sifts through shirt after shirt, unsure if he’s looking at his clothing or Taeil’s. It would be more correct to say it’s _their_ clothing. After centuries of traveling and living together, his and Taeil’s things at some point just became ‘ _their’_ things. Haechan smiles to himself, settling on a plain white tee and pulling out a grey t-shirt for Taeil.

Once dressed, Haechan sits on their bed toweling his hair and listening to the sounds of Taeil singing in the shower. Haechan has always loved Taeil’s voice. Whether it’s his soulful singing late in the evenings after a long day or his deep velvet timbre right when he wakes up in the morning, Taeil’s voice is a source of comfort to Haechan. It’s probably because during his first encounter with death he had heard Taeil’s voice in his head—“Don’t be afraid. You aren’t alone, I’m with you.”

Haechan shutters, not having thought of that day in many years. He remembers it like someone remembers a recurring dream, the details fuzzy but the emotions vivid—pain, fear, confusion. Succumbing to death, Haechan dreamt of strangers and unknown places, pain radiating through his body as he went through the unnatural process of reviving for the first time. Haechan can’t quite remember how he died or where, but he remembers seeing Taeil’s face in his dreams, and the promise he had made— _You aren’t alone, I’m with you._ He didn’t know why or how, but Haechan somehow knew he could trust him. So when he awoke a day later alive and unharmed surrounded by his new found family, Haechan was more than ready to follow Taeil into the depths of hell and back. 

_You aren’t alone, I’m with you._ Haechan has held Taeil to that promise to this very day. Since the beginning of his immortal life, Haechan can’t remember a day he hasn’t spent by Taeil’s side—a night he didn’t go to sleep locking his arms around Taeil’s body or a morning snuggling into Taeil’s neck. The group might split up from time to time, each with their own goals and missions, but Taeil and Haechan are a pair—two halves of a whole. And as long as he and Taeil are together, Haechan wants for nothing.

 _But what if you lose Taeil?_ Haechan’s own thought startles him out of his warm memories _._ He feels that same dread from earlier, the slow panic of seeing Taeil lying on the ground lifeless, rooting itself deeper into his chest and making it hard to breath. He shakes his head, erasing the image from his mind and inhaling deeply. But the fear sinks its teeth deeper— _what if he never wakes up?_ The possibility seems unthinkable to Haechan who has hurt and healed hundreds of times in his 250 years as an immortal. And Haechan has always thought that Taeil, specifically, is _different_. Taeil has lived longer than all of them combined—he has survived not just centuries but _millennia_ of wars, famine, plagues, and natural disasters. As Johnny often jokes, Taeil has lived longer than God. _But Taeil is not God. Death comes for everyone eventually,_ Haechan’s mind reminds him.

Haechan throws his towel on the bed, tucking his head between his hands as he shuts his eyes. His heart begins to race, chest tightening and vision tunneling as his mind spirals. _This is nonsense, we are immortal_ , he reasons with himself. But the voice in his head gets louder, setting him on the edge of a panic attack. _Everyone’s time comes for them_. Haechan shoots to his feet, breathing heavily as he stomps out of the bedroom and into the kitchen. He looks around for Johnny, but finds Doyoung and Yuta preparing dinner instead.

“Have you seen Johnny?” he asks brusquely. Yuta looks up, his brow furrowed for a second before continuing to wash used pots and pans. 

“He and Jaehyun went to pick up Jungwoo and Mark at the airport,” Yuta states with his signature healing smile, clearly excited to see the last two other members of their ‘family’ after a year apart. 

“I hope they purchase more wine. The last time we all visited, there was barely enough to last us for an entire meal,” Doyoung grins, stirring the stew he’s just finished cooking. His smile falters for the barest of seconds, noting the way Haechan fidgets as he stands at the kitchen island. Doyoung and Yuta share a look but say nothing, both knowing that Haechan will eventually say what’s on his mind. But he just continues to pout and breathe heavily through his nose.

“What troubles you?” Doyoung asks softly, but Haechan just shakes his head, sitting himself down on a barstool.

“Nothing really. I was just wondering— I wanted to ask Johnny, er,” Haechan falters for a moment. He didn’t really want to ask Doyoung about this, knowing it’s a delicate subject, but he is desperate to calm his racing thoughts. “You and Taeil had another… _companion_ before the others came along, right?”

“Another companion,” Doyoung thinks out loud, pausing mid-stir. "Oh, are you perhaps referring to Taeyong?”

“Yes! _Taeyong_. What ever happened to him?”

“Why the sudden curiosity?” Doyoung questions, brow furrowed.

“No reason, just wondering,” Haechan tries to play it cool, tapping his fingers lightly on the countertop. “ _So,_ what happened to him? You and Taeil never talk about it.”

Yuta pauses his washing, turning his head slowly to give Doyoung a long side-eyed look. Doyoung frowns, turning off the stove. Crossing his arms, Doyoung fixes Haechan with a soft gaze. “Haechan-ah, have you ever met Taeyong?”

“No,” Haechan answers hesitantly, knowing where this line of questioning is leading. 

“Have you ever dreamt of him?”

“No,” Haechan whispers, looking down at his hands.

“If you have neither met him nor dreamt of him, then what does that mean?” Doyoung asks gently. 

“He’s dead,” Haechan chokes out. Doyoung simply nods. Yuta’s eyes shift back and forth between Doyoung and Haechan, watching the exchange curiously and cautiously. Doyoung looks down at his feet, a faraway look in his eyes. Haechan, however, seems to be having a million thoughts a second, his brow furrowing.

“But what I don’t understand is, wasn’t he immortal? Like us?” Haechan leans forward, palms flat against the countertop, watching Doyoung intently.

Doyoung sighs, running a hand through his hair. Yuta reaches over and squeezes his arm in comfort, knowing it’s difficult for Doyoung to talk about his former partner, even 700 years after his passing. Doyoung gives him a reassuring smile before turning back to Haechan. “I do not believe _immortality_ is the proper description for our power. Immortality implies invincibility, or perhaps _undying._ And you know very well that we are capable of experiencing death, but for reasons unbeknownst we have an ability to heal that is beyond all scientific explanation. But this ability is not guaranteed to work all the time—which is what happened to Taeyong.”

“So what exactly happened? He just stopped healing one day?” Haechan whispers, knowing he’s crossing an unspoken line but too stubborn to back down. 

“His ability to heal became that of a normal person. Thus when he sustained a fatal injury that his body could not heal, nor was there medicine advanced enough to cure him, he perished,” Doyoung says sadly, the memory of reliving that day painful even now. And even though Haechan can see the effect it is having on Doyoung, he pushes on.

“Maybe he lost his ability because of his age. Was he old? Like, _really_ old?” Haechan inquires, the wheels in his brain spinning at max capacity, trying to find reason to his anxieties.

“Do you know Taeil’s age?” Doyoung asks. Haechan nods, knowing Taeil has been around since the time of the Ancient Korean Kingdom, roughly 2000 BCE. “Taeyong was scarcely older than six centuries when he died. So if Taeil is still alive after four _millennia_ then it is not because Taeyong was ‘old’.”

“But there must have been a _reason,_ ” Haechan persists, even though he can sense Doyoung’s patience with him is wearing thin. “Was he injured by a special weapon, or poisoned? Maybe he—”

“There was no _reason_ , Haechan. It was simply his time. God or whomever bestowed upon us these abilities decided it was time to take them away from Taeyong. _That is all,”_ Doyoung says sharply, eyes cutting and jaw jutted. “It can happen to any of us at any time. No one can guarantee our powers will remain forever.” 

Haechan suddenly realizes why Doyoung is always so cautious when planning their missions—why he tries to avoid putting them in harm's way as much as possible; his insistence on bullet-proof vests even though most prefer not to wear them. (And perhaps why Taeil is so willing to jump in front of a barrage of bullets instead of letting Haechan take the hits.)

Regardless, Doyoung’s answers aren’t enough for Haechan. He wants to ask more questions, wants to poke and prod at the wound in Doyoung’s heart because Haechan can’t fathom to face the truth staring him down. But Doyoung, back turned as he returns his attention to dinner preparation, says nothing more. _End of conversation._ Yuta, sensing the tension between the two, runs interference. He wipes his hands on a dish towel and moves to grab plates from the cupboard. “The others should be back any moment, so could you start setting up the table, please?” He hands Haechan the plates before digging out the cutlery. Haechan sighs, taking the hint. 

Taeil emerges from his shower just in time to help Haechan set the table. “Need a hand?” Taeil smiles at Haechan, and it grips Haechan’s heart in the most loving way possible it physically hurts.

“Sure thing, Boss,” Haechan mumbles but avoids looking Taeil in the eye. He doesn’t know why, but seeing Taeil right now seems to set every single one of his senses on high alert—his touch, the smell of his shampoo, the sound of his voice, his smile. It’s all there to just push Haechan over the edge and into the dark thoughts he’s been trying to avoid. But Taeil notices; Taeil _always_ notices. 

“Is something wrong, Haechan-ie? You’ve been acting a little off all afternoon,” Taeil says worriedly, running a hand along Haechan’s arm. It sets Haechan’s skin on fire, and he flinches away. Taeil retracts his hand as if slapped, brow furrowing in confusion.

“I’m fine. Everything’s fine, Boss,” he says quickly with a crooked smile, hoping to fool Taeil. Taeil says nothing more but continues to observe Haechan, clearly concerned by his behavior. 

With the arrival of Jungwoo and Mark, chaos ensues which Haechan uses to his advantage, distracting himself from Doyoung and Taeil scrutinizing eyes. Haechan clings to Mark like he always does, badgering and pestering him at every opportunity possible. Jungwoo (much to Haechan’s relief) attaches himself to Taeil, showering him with all the affection he has built up over the past year apart. As the rest of the group filter into the dining room, opening bottles of wine and laughing at Jungwoo’s antics, Haechan feels himself relax a little.

They eat the hearty meal cooked up by Doyoung and Yuta, drink almost all the wine Jaehyun bought to replenish their collection, and catch up on everyone’s whereabouts over the last year. While Johnny and Jaehyun have pretty much settled themselves in North America for the last couple of decades, Doyoung and Yuta returned to Asia for the first time in years, deciding to visit Yuta’s home land of Japan. Mark and Jungwoo had ventured to Australia to help with the raging wildfires while Taeil and Haechan had traveled around South America. Though it’s been a year since they were all last together, it feels as if no time has passed—Haechan teases Mark until he is cutely flustered, everyone teases Doyoung for his insistence on speaking formally (once a Hwarang, always a Hwarang), while Johnny and Taeil get into their arguments over food (the best American style of pizza is in fact Detroit-style _not_ Chicago deep-dish, Taeil argues). It feels normal enough that Haechan almost forgets his previous anxieties from hours before—until Mark brings up their mostly successful hostage breakout from earlier that day. 

“I saw on the news that terrorists had kidnapped some high-profile politicians and school kids a few days ago, but had _mysteriously_ let them all free this morning. The FBI said it was a clean raid,” Mark says with a smirk, “Wonder how they managed that.”

“They may have had a little help,” Jaehyun says with his signature smile, leaning back in his chair and crossing his arms smugly. 

“A _little_? We took care of those bastards entirely for them. We couldn’t just leave those poor, helpless hostages at the hands of no-good terrorists. All SWAT had to do was show up and claim the prize. Lazy bums,” Johnny says in fake exasperation.

“It was the school kids, wasn’t it?” Jungwoo asks, turning his head to look Taeil straight in the eye. He leans towards him, tilting his head inquisitively yet cutely. “You _hate_ politicians, so it must have been the little adorable kids.”

Taeil smiles in response, shrugging as if he had nothing to do with it, though they all know he was the one to instigate it.

“Il-ie can’t help himself when it comes to small, adorable things,” Jaehyun points out. They all laugh in agreement, teasing Taeil for his soft heart—his tendency to rescue cats off the streets, how he’ll always go the extra mile for the youngest in their society. Even after years of witnessing the atrocities of humankind, Taeil seems to have faith in people, that they are all capable of changing for the better. It’s one of the reasons Haechan both admires Taeil and finds him exhausting. He’s never met someone with so much optimism in a world full of shitty people.

“I heard all the terrorists were shot clean in the shoulders, disarmed but alive,” Mark says leaning over the table to give Johnny a high-five for his usual handy work. “Well, all except for one, who had been disemboweled.”

"Sounds like Haechan’s work,” Yuta points out, knowing full well Haechan’s preference for his sword than his gun (he’s the same way, preferring his katana). “He must have really pissed you off for you to gut him like that. Let me guess, did he kill Taeil?”

“I may have taken a few shots, rendering myself as useful as a sack of potatoes,” Taeil jokes. Usually Haechan would laugh, but now he flinches at the mention of Taeil going down. His palms clam up as he pictures Taeil’s lifeless body under his shaking fingers. He takes a deep breath, closing his eyes momentarily as he pushes the image out of his mind, but the uneasiness he has kept in check begins to push through the small cracks in his mental wall. Though the rest of the group continues on with their conversation, switching subjects entirely, Haechan can’t seem to focus. His foot bounces against the floor restlessly and he fidgets with the wine glass in his hand. Conversations about holiday shopping deals and a possible ski trip upstate for New Years flit in and out of his ears, not really registering the words. When Mark places a friendly hand on his shoulders, Haechan jumps in his seat surprised, snapping out of his spiraling thoughts. 

Mark rubs his back gently, “Woah dude, relax. You ok?”

“Yeah, no I’m fine. I was just thinking about, uh, ice skating tomorrow,” Haechan recovers, but his skittish reaction doesn’t go unnoticed. Doyoung gently nudges Taeil under the table, signaling to him that they ‘ _need to have a discussion’_. Taeil nods slowly, looking over at Haechan worriedly. Doyoung clears his throat before turning his attention to the three youngest immortals.

“Could you three be of use and tidy up the kitchen?” Doyoung queries Mark, Jungwoo, and Haechan. Mark readily agrees as he always does, while Haechan mumbles his complaints but goes along with it anyway (as he always does). They clear the table and move towards the kitchen, Jungwoo following behind like an excited puppy, already making plans for after their ice skating adventure. Doyoung moves to sit next to Taeil, leaning their heads together as they discuss their mutual concern over their youngest family member. 

* * *

After a few more bottles of wine and enduring a weirdly sexy rendition of “Baby, It’s Cold Outside” by Jungwoo and Jaehyun, they all decide it’s time to turn in for the night. Haechan, who remained distracted the rest of the night, makes his escape to the bedroom in the hopes that a good night’s sleep will relieve his new found anxiety. He rushes into the bathroom to get ready for bed, hoping to avoid Taeil. Taeil shares one last look with Doyoung before following Haechan to their room, closing the door softly. He leans against it, taking a deep breath as the sounds of Haechan brushing his teeth fill the room. He goes about changing, slipping into his new favorite “Hawkins Phys Ed” hoodie. Normally he wouldn’t think twice about barging in and harassing Haechan that he’s taking too long; they’d laugh and stand side-by-side brushing their teeth in content silence. But not tonight; he keeps his distance and patiently sits on the bed waiting his turn. 

When Haechan emerges, he pulls the hood of his sweatshirt over his head and dives straight into bed, completely ignoring Taeil. He holds his breath as he waits for Taeil to do something, but Taeil stays seated watching Haechan with a curious look. Haechan can feel his heart beating out of his chest until finally Taeil stands, making his way into the bathroom. Exhaling loudly, Haechan screws his eyes shut hoping sweet dreams and a restful sleep will quiet his raging thoughts. But now that Mark, Jungwoo, and the others are no longer around to distract him, Haechan’s thoughts run wild and unfiltered. As Taeil’s soft humming from the bathroom reaches Haechan’s ears, all Haechan can see behind his closed eyes is the cheeky smile Taeil had given him before dying in his arms. He remembers how frustrated he had felt as he laid Taeil down on the ground. Frustrated, Haechan had felt _frustrated_ instead of _worried_. He’s never been worried before, but Doyoung’s words ring through his mind— _It can happen to any of us at any time_.

Haechan buries his head deeper into his pillow when he hears Taeil’s soft footsteps on the carpet. It’s dark in the room now, only the city lights streaming in through the sheer curtains. But Taeil can see Haechan at the edge of the bed, back facing him as he slowly slides in under the covers. When Taeil turns on his side towards him, Haechan curls in on himself more. Taeil sighs softly, rubbing his bleary eyes. He’s never been good at giving big talks, letting Doyoung handle those kinds of things. But with Haechan, Taeil knows he’s the one that can get through the youngest’s headstrong personality. Haechan has always had a soft spot for Taeil and is more willing to listen to him than the others, perhaps with the exception of Johnny.

“Haechan-ie,” Taeil whispers. Though it’s only the two of them in the room, Taeil’s whisper sounds like a boom in Haechan’s ears. He doesn’t respond, only closing his eyes more tightly in an effort to force himself to pass-out cold. The bed shifts behind him as he feels Taeil move closer to him, placing a gentle hand on his arm. “Haechan, I know there is something bothering you. You’ve been moody all evening. And I think I know what it is.”

Haechan slowly opens his eyes but doesn’t respond or move, his eyes fixed on the lights from the city below them, listening intently. “Doyoung told me you were asking about Taeyong and how he….how he died. I’m not surprised that you asked. I’ve been expecting it, actually. We’ve all gone through it, what Yuta calls the ‘250 year itch’—when you realize you aren’t entirely invincible. I know it’s a scary thought, but we are ultimately still human and dying is a natural part of being human. But I want to let you know, it’s ok to be scared of losing your powers, of dying. It’s only natural to fear the unknown, even if we ourselves have experienced death countless times. It’s not—”

Haechan quickly turns, pinning Taeil with a look and cutting off his train of thought. Haechan has avoided looking directly at Taeil since returning from their mission earlier that day. But now in the darkness and solitude of their room Taeil can see it’s not just fear, but _pain_ Haechan has been hiding from him. Haechan shifts closer to Taeil, eyes glistening in the dark as he shakes his head faintly. Bringing a hand to Haechan’s face, Taeil gently runs a thumb from one birthmark to another, caressing his cheek— silent encouragement for Haechan to open up to him.

“I’m not scared of dying, Taeil,” Haechan whispers, his voice thick with unshed tears. And it’s true; Haechan doesn’t fear death, at least not his own. “I’m fucking terrified of _you_ dying.” _Wandering alone for the rest of eternity without seeing Taeil’s smile, hearing Taeil sing, feeling Taeil’s hands on his body, smelling Taeil’s sweet scent in the mornings—_ it is Haechan’s biggest fear _._ And all it took was Taeil taking a few extra minutes to revive for Haechan to have the devastating realization that one day Taeil may never wake up.

Taeil looks at Haechan with wide, surprised eyes. That is _not_ what he expected to hear. Most of them fear their own demise, having become accustomed to an unending number of lives. But as Taeil thinks about Haechan’s behavior more closely, he begins to connect the dots of Haechan’s fears—the horrified look on Haechan’s face when he had come-to, his first words after waking up ( _What took you so long?_ ), _a_ nd the kiss that Taeil had thought was Haechan being sentimental but now he sees it as _relief._ Even at dinner, only after it was mentioned that Taeil was shot did Haechan clam up. It all makes sense, and it breaks Taeil’s heart. All he wants is to see his Full-Sun smile and laugh. Life, even their seemingly unending ones, is too short to live in fear of _what ifs._ Taeil wipes away a tear that seems to have slipped past Haechan’s usually steely eyes. He looks so vulnerable and young, Taeil thinks. He looks more like the scared young man _Lee Donghyuck_ Taeil had taken under his wing, and not _Haechan_ the fearless immortal warrior Taeil has grown to love with all his heart. 

“You took _so_ long to come back,” Haechan murmurs, running a hand where the bullet holes had once marred Taeil’s chest. It’s almost a relief to feel Taeil’s chest solid and strong, intact and perfect as it's always been. “You’ve never taken that long before. I mean, for fuck’s sake you were practically decapitated once and you came back in _seconds!_ But a few bullets to the chest? You were out for _minutes,_ ” Haechan inhales, a sob building up in his chest as he pictures Taeil lying on the ground. “Your eyes were vacant and your skin had started paling. I waited and waited but you just lied there, you wouldn’t heal. I thought for a second that you had…I thought…”

“Haechan, it’s ok—” Taeil tries to soothe him, but Haechan seems to be stuck in his head, succumbing to thoughts he’d kept at bay now flooding out.

“I had never considered the possibility of losing you before. But when you wouldn’t heal, I thought for sure you were dead and I froze. I didn’t know what to do. So I prayed, I fucking _begged_ the universe to bring you back—” Haechan rambles, his tears falling in earnest and his lip trembling. 

“Haechan, stop.” Taeil sits up so that he can clasp Haechan’s face in his hands, forcing Haechan to look at him. “I’m fine. See? I’m here, there’s nothing to worry about.”

“But what if next time you don’t heal? What if next time you really _die_?” Haechan chokes on the last word, poison on his lips. Haechan scans Taeil’s face, as if he’s seeing it for the first time. He tries to commit everything to memory, but it seems so fleeting. “What would I do without you? I’d be all alone—”

“You wouldn’t be alone, you’d have the rest of the group. Mark, Doyoung, Jungwoo—” Taeil tries to reason with him, but Haechan just shakes his head furiously. He grasps Taeil’s arms desperately as if trying to keep Taeil here with him forever. 

“But I’d be _lonely_ ,” Haechan says, his voice cracking as another sob overtakes him. Haechan knows he’d have the others; they are his family _._ But none of them would fill the large hole left by Taeil’s absence. None of them calm him like Taeil does or give him the confidence to step out into the world. None would play with him without having to be asked, or go off on an adventure into the jungles of the Amazon without the slightest idea of what they are doing. Haechan knows he wouldn’t be alone, but it would never be the same. “If I didn’t have you in my life, it would be _empty_. This life, I don’t want it if you aren’t in it. And if I have to go on without you I don’t think I could,” Haechan’s voice cracks, the idea of living years, let alone centuries, with just the memories of Taeil to keep him company is pure agony.

Taeil knows Haechan is upset and wound up, but he can’t help smiling at Haechan’s passionate heart. Even as his face scrunches up in anguish at a hypothetical loss, Haechan is still so beautiful, his soul effervescent. Taeil wipes away Haechan’s runaway tears before placing a chaste kiss on Haechan’s forehead, hoping to console his partner. But it only makes Haechan cry harder, throwing his arms around Taeil and burying his face in his chest. “I don’t want this stupid fucking power if I can’t be with you,” Haechan sobs, squeezing Taeil as if he wants to absorb him into his very being so that they are never separated. 

Taeil rests his cheek on the crown of Haechan’s head, hugging him tightly. He lets Haechan cry until his sobs turn into hiccups, all the while humming softly and tenderly running fingers through Haechan’s hair. Once Haechan seems to have calmed down a bit, Taeil pulls back, wiping Haechan’s face with the sleeve of his hoodie. He holds Haechan’s round cheeks in his hands, making sure Haechan is paying attention to him. He wants Haechan to hear him, to _really_ listen to what he has to say. They hold each other’s gazes for a moment before Taeil slowly lets go, his hands trailing down Haechan’s arms. 

“Donghyuck,” Taeil says, using Haechan’s old name for the first time in years. Taeil is the only one to ever refer to any of them by their oldnames from time to time, his way of breaking down walls and building intimate connections with each of them. And right now, he wants to reach Haechan with his words. “I know our powers sometimes feel more like a curse than a blessing. We keep on living but we also keep feeling pain. We’ve watched friends and family forget us, grow old, and die. And all we have left are our memories, _if_ we can even remember their faces. We run into dangerous situations in the hopes that it leads to some good in the world, only to see atrocities happening the next day. And yes, we aren’t guaranteed to live forever—a cruel trick of the gods to take away the gift they have given. Despite all that, our powers _are_ a blessing. The only reason we are even having this conversation right here, right now, is because of our ‘ _stupid fucking powers’._ ”

Haechan hiccups, scrunching his brow in confusion. Taeil’s lip twitches upwards; he can read Haechan so easily, every expression and emotion clear on his face. And right now it says ‘ _What the fuck are you talking about, Boss?’_ Taeil intertwines their fingers and kisses Haechan’s hand, just like Haechan always does to him.

“Think about it— we never would have met if it weren’t for these powers. We come from different times in history, practically different worlds, and yet here we are _together_.” Taeil squeezes Haechan’s hands, emphasizing just how miraculous it is for them to even exist at the same time in the same place. “I lived a very lonely existence before the others came into my life. I spent centuries searching and wondering _why me—_ why was I cursed to watch my loved ones die, why was I chosen to continue living this tortured existence? And yet even after I was no longer alone, I wondered why I was still here. Millennia after centuries after decades….Then I met you. I knew from the first time I dreamt of you that _you_ are the reason I’m still here. My power, my _blessing_ isn’t that I get eternal life. My blessing is that _I found you_.” 

Taeil watches as the truth of his words hit Haechan like a runaway train. Haechan has been so focused on what he could lose, that he didn’t realize what he has been given. Unending life, yes, but also his soulmate. He’s taken that fact for granted—he’s lived his whole immortal life by Taeil’s side, never really thinking of what it took for Taeil to even be here with him. Haechan had been crying over a desolate future that may never come to pass, but Taeil had already lived that life—lonely, searching, and waiting for _him_. 

“Taeil, I—I never,” Haechan stumbles on his words, unsure of how to articulate his complicated feelings. Happiness, guilt, anger, joy, grief, and love all bundled up in his chest. But Taeil smiles nodding. He understands, having gone through his own emotional journey over the meaning of their strange lives years before. Luckily, he is there to help Haechan through his own emotional discovery. 

Taeil caresses Haechan’s face, loving how he still looks so pretty even though his eyes are puffy from crying and his hair is a right mess from burying himself deep in the covers. The city lights create a soft halo around Haechan, highlighting his beautiful caramel skin and the constellation of moles that Taeil has mapped countless nights. He presses a soft kiss on Haechan lips, smiling wistfully.

“Even if I had to endure centuries of loneliness, it was worth it just to be with you. So don’t squander away the moments we have with _what ifs._ We’ve been so blessed to even spend one lifetime together, let alone three or four or more. Let’s cherish the fact that we can be together _now._ Because who knows better than us how fragile life is, right? _”_

Haechan watches Taeil with wide eyes, the dread and anxiety in his chest now mixed with warmth and undying love for his partner—his moon in the darkness and his warmth in the cold. Haechan places his hand on Taeil’s neck, lightly running a thumb along his jaw, feeling his pulse under his palm. It is proof that he is alive and well, that Taeil is there with Haechan and not a dream. 

“You are everything and more to me, Taeil-ah. I’ll always love you,” Haechan says with a crooked smile.

“I’ll always love you too, Haechan-ie,” Taeil whispers, running a hand along Haechan’s face and into his hair, cupping the back of his neck and pulling him in for a kiss. Haechan melts into it, his chest tightening and pulse quickening at the sensation of Taeil’s lips on his. It’s a familiar feeling having done it thousands of times, but even after all these centuries Taeil’s kiss still thrills Haechan. As he kisses Taeil back, Haechan’s hands run up underneath Taeil’s hoodie, fingers tracing lightly along his chest. The memory of bullet holes and blood still makes Haechan’s heart lurch, but now he knows not to let the fear drive him.

“Feeling better?” Taeil asks, pulling back slightly. Haechan nods. He does feel better, though he knows he’ll never escape that slightly nervous energy of death looming over their shoulders. Taeil, sensing Haechan’s distraction, runs a soft thumb along Haechan’s cheek. “What are you thinking about?”

Haechan pouts for a moment, trying to organize his thoughts. “I know I freaked out earlier, and I must have seemed silly—”

“Not silly at all,” Taeil is quick to correct, reminding Haechan that his feelings are always valid. _What a sap,_ Haechan shakes his head affectionately. 

“I know I’ll always fear you dying every time we go out on a mission, but I think I’m ok with that.”

“You’re ok with me dying?” Taeil feigns horror.

“ _Don’t be stupid,”_ Haechan growls, pinching Taeil’s arm. “What I’m trying to say is, I won’t take our time for granted anymore. I want to be together forever, and I’m going to make sure forever lasts as long as possible. Years, centuries, a millennium if possible. Eternity would be best.”

Taeil chuckles, pulling Haechan in for one last tender kiss. “Eternity sounds great. Why don’t we start tomorrow after you go ice skating and I do some Christmas shopping?”

Haechan nods, letting Taeil pull him closer. Taeil wraps his arms around him as Haechan cuddles into Taeil’s embrace. It is warm, comforting, intimate, and perfect. Taeil sighs contentedly and closes his eyes, kissing the crown of Haechan’s head before resting his cheek there. Soon enough his breath evens out, his soft breath tickling Haechan’s hair. Haechan snuggles in closer, letting his eyes slowly close as he thinks about all his precious memories with Taeil, and how he won’t ever take them for granted again—Taeil’s laughter, his sighs of pleasure, his warm tongue on his neck, sharing delicious meals, their fingers intertwined, dancing in their living room, feet tangled in the bed sheets, singing songs in empty plazas, kissing in the rain, sparing in empty fields, making love in the afternoons, falling asleep watching movies, reading books by a fireplace, picnics in the park, getting lost in an old-new city. Every single moment is a small blessing. 

After all, their love is a miracle all on its own, and Haechan won’t let anything take Taeil away from him. 

* * *

_fin_.

**Author's Note:**

> This was inspired by the movie 'The Old Guard' on Netflix as well as my own recent experiences with death and loss. It was sort of cathartic for me to write. Hope you enjoyed it.
> 
> Come say hi/follow me on:  
> +tumblr [@shining-moon-taeil](https://shining-moon-taeil.tumblr.com)  
> +twitter @shining_taeil_


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